


sick and tired (literally)

by moriimae



Category: A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series), Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriimae/pseuds/moriimae
Summary: You’re sick and overworking yourself, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. Dark decides to take matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Darkiplier/Reader, Mark Fischbach/You, darkiplier/you
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	sick and tired (literally)

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted to my tumblr under the same username!

Five hours.

It had been five hours since you’d begun working on an essay for one of your classes. You often got so absorbed in activities—whether it be reading, watching television, or, in this case, schoolwork—that you would lose track of time.

Five hours spent swapping between your textbooks and the word document opened on your laptop. You rubbed your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the pain throbbing in your skull.

 _I need to get this damn paper done. I don’t have_ **_time_ ** _to be sick!_

Irritated by the inconvenience of being sick, you grumbled swears under your breath. Your head seemed heavier, and felt as if it were stuffed full of cotton. The toll of being sick was wearing upon your body, but you needed to get that damn paper done.

Your phone chimed next to you—the high-pitched noise felt like a stab to your head, and you winced. 

_God dammit. I thought I muted that.  
_

You supposed you had time to check your notifications. The most recent one: a text from Dark.

_[ Received: 8:13 pm ] Darling, it is late. You should take a break._

_[ Sent: 8:15 pm ] i’m still working, dark_

_[ Sent: 8:16 pm ] i’ll take a break later_

_[ Received: 8:19 pm ] You said that two hours ago, yet you did not._

You scoffed—a mistake, as the action devolved into a fit of coughing—and locked your phone without responding.  
  
_You didn’t have **time** for breaks—you had to get that **damn paper done!**_

Fatigue weighed at your eyelids as you fought to stay focused—if you were lucky, you could probably finish your paper _without_ passing out.  
  
But luck, it seemed, was not on your side.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

_— — —_

> _The air felt so **wrong**._
> 
> _Your first instinct told you to **run.**   
>  To **flee**.   
>  That there was **danger**._
> 
> _But you didn’t know where Dark was.  
>  You needed to find Dark.   
>  So you went against your instincts.  
>  You didn’t run._ _  
> _
> 
> _A crash from the kitchen startled you—that instinct crept up again, screaming at you to stop.  
>  To turn back.  
>  You didn’t.  
>    
>  You needed to find Dark._
> 
> _You went to the kitchen._
> 
> _You didn’t think you’d find Dark unconscious, bleeding on the floor, with Mark—poor, twisted Mark—standing over him._
> 
> _The former actor turned to you with a sadistic smile.  
>  “Y/N! It’s been _ **_s̷̡o͟ ̸͠l̨̕͜o̷n͏͡g̛_ ** _.” His sing-song tone ran shivers down your spine._
> 
> _He took one step towards you.  
>  Then two._
> 
> _Ice-cold terror froze your blood. In a panic, you grabbed the nearest object—a knife, to your luck—and threw it at him.  
>  _ _It embedded itself into his shoulder.  
>  _ _That sadistic smile spread wider._
> 
> _**“ W̷͢͞as̸̢̕ ̶t͡͠hat̢ ҉͢s̸u̵͠pp̶͜o̵sed̕͝ ͠t̕o҉ ̡h҉u̸ŗt͠?̷ ”**  
>  _
> 
> _Oh no._
> 
> _You **screamed**._

_  
— — —  
  
_

Dark paused in his reading when he heard your cries from upstairs, almost instantly on his feet when they grew louder. He wasted no time in getting to your side—you were still asleep, trembling as you whimpered out pleas of mercy.  
  
“Y/N. Y/N, wake up.” Dark gently shook your shoulder. You shot upright with a sob that quickly morphed into coughs. Tear-filled eyes blurred your gaze as you looked at him.

 _“ **I thought you were dead**. I thought he killed you—” _You choked out, hands reaching out to make sure Dark was there. That he was beside you.

“I am right here, pet. Fret not,” Dark murmured as he pulled you against his chest, “you were just dreaming.”

Your shaking didn’t stop despite his words. He sighed and moved away—only to scoop you up into his arms.  
  
Protests spilled from your lips, your voice thick with distress and raspy from coughing. “No, _no—_ I have to finish my work _—!”_

“You will do nothing but _rest_ , dove. You are _ill_. You must _rest_.” Dark’s voice left no room for argument.

However, you were stubborn as a mule and being sick only amplified that trait, so argue you did.

“... but I _need_ —”

“ _ **No**_.” The creaking and ringing which accompanied the entity—and had been unusually absent—spiked with his words. It felt like a gunshot to your already-aching head.

Your lip began to tremble as both pain and anxiety overwhelmed you. “But I _have_ to! If I don’t—”

“This discussion is **over** , Y/N. You _will_ be resting until I. Say. Otherwise.”

You knew you had lost the argument. Dark rarely took on an icy tone with you, and his words were as cold as the Arctic. Another cough racked your body, and with a defeated whine, you sagged against your boyfriend. “...fine.”

  
— — —  


True to his word, Dark made sure you stayed in bed at all times (except for when you needed to use the bathroom, of course) until you recovered from your unfortunate bout of bronchitis. 

You’d been given an extension on your essay—though you have a feeling Dark had something to do with that—and thus managed to turn it in on time.

When you and Dark were having dinner, you gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Dark. For making sure I took care of myself. I love you.”

The small smile the entity returned filled your heart with such joy.   
  
“And I you, my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> friendly feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated!


End file.
